Be glad, my heart! now fear no more,

Let nothing ever grieve thee;

Christ lives, who lov’d thee long before

Thy being He did give thee,

And ere He made thy wondrous frame;

His love remaineth still the same,

It ne’er can change to hatred.

Be of good cheer! thy nearing end,

My heart! need not appal thee,

No ill’s in it; God doth extend,

His loving hand and call thee

From all the thousand forms of woe

That in this vale of tears below,

Thou ever hast endurèd.

’Tis true, ’tis call’d death’s agony,

But yet it is no dying;

The death of death is Christ, for He

Prevents it from destroying,

That though it puts forth all its pow’r,

No hair it hurteth in the hour

When I from hence am taken.

The sting of death in sin doth lie,

And in our evil doing;

Poor child of Adam! eagerly

This path was I pursuing.

In Christ’s blood sin is wash’d away,

Forgiven are we now for aye,

Ne’er fall in condemnation.

My sin is gone, and I am clean,

Whoever would deprive me,

Henceforth is life eternal mine;

The thought may never grieve me

Of sin’s dread wages earn’d by me;

Who’s reconcil’d, must ever be,

Unhurt by opposition.

Now God’s free grace I with me take,

And all His joy and gladness,

On this last journey that I make,

And know no grief nor sadness.

The foe becomes to me a sheep,

His ire becomes a blessèd sleep,

Of quiet rest the pillow.

Thou Jesus! O thou sweetest Friend,

My light and life art ever!

Thou holdest me, dost me defend,

The foe can move Thee never.

In Thee I am, Thou art in me,

As we are here, we’ll ever be,

Nought here or there can part us.

My body down to rest doth lie,

Fatigued with life’s sad story;

The soul then mounteth up on high,

With chosen ones in glory

It mingles, and keeps joyfully,

The endless year of Jubilee

With all the holy angels.

Oh! Highest Prince of great and small,

May that bless’d day be nearing;

When Thou shalt by Thy trumpet call,

And all the dead be hearing.

Again shall soul and body be

One, and Thy joy shall taste and see,

Thy Father’s kingdom enter.

If ’tis Thy will, O Lord, appear,

To peace and bliss to take me

For ever, Thee may I be near,

How joyful would it make me!

Be open’d wide—of death, thou gate!

That to so bliss’d place and state

Through thee I may pass over.